click, click, boom [cason]

[KENNEDY NYOTA GARDNER]

There was something about the gun range that always managed to calm Kennedy down. People mostly kept to themselves and didn't bother one another because they were all there for some greater purpose or reason. To blow off steam, practice, or just because they liked the feel of doing something remotely dangerous. The first time she'd shot off a live gun, it had been her and her brother AJ with Ivan, the man who raised her and her brother, and had become like a secondary father figure. She'd never forget her real parents, of course, but the Montgomerys had taken such good care of both of them that it was hard not to just think of them as Mom and Dad.

The first time shooting had been surprisingly easy for her: Kennedy's eyes zoned in on their targets, which were just old soda cans that Ivan stacked up on tree stumps, and pulled the trigger. Bang. Bang. Bang. Can after can fell, and Ivan had been impressed with her ability, even at age fourteen, to see the best position to place the shot. Her brother was better with guerrilla warfare or sniper tactics, but Kennedy preferred to always be in the direct line of fire. Kennedy's battle cry was loud and noisy, but effective. However, it was their differences and mastered skills that made them such an unstoppable team.

Sometimes, Kennedy really missed hunting with her brother. And she knew that even though neither one of them had much interest in hunting the “evil monsters” anymore, they still missed the feeling of tracking and chasing down something dangerous, and knowing that more than likely, they'd win. It was an adrenaline rush to be so wild and free, to be a hunter instead of the hunted, and know that despite the frail human exterior that caged them, they were still capable of taking down nature's more enhanced beings. And when the actual fights happened? Kennedy grinned to herself as she put the clip in her pistol and cocked the hammer back.

The actual fights were the best part, because even though she'd gotten into plenty of physical altercations, there was still that chance that she wouldn't make it out alive that time. That the monster in front of her would be the one that took her out, and when they didn't... well, nothing else could make her feel as powerful or alive. The brunette's earphones were already in place, and her safety glasses were on. The hunter's eyes narrowed in on the target that was fifty yards ahead of her, and she squared off her shoulders and widened her stance.

Ivan's words always echoed in her head whenever she took her first shot, whether it was at the shooting range or in the open wild. At a target, or at something living and breathing. Aim, breathe, and then pull the trigger. Aim, breathe... Kennedy pulled the trigger a second later, then again, and again, and then three more times. Her .22 held a fourteen round clip and one in the chamber, but she liked to take breaks between every six shots or so, because it gave her a chance not only to conserve ammo, but not to get trigger happy as she tended to do every now and then. The spread pattern on the target only showed four shots out of six, but the larger hole in the dead center meant that she must have hit the exact same spot twice. The range was different than when she was actually out hunting for a number of reasons; she used a smaller caliber gun for one, and secondly, shooting a stationary target was easy. Nothing actually stayed still when it was being hunted unless you were smart enough to sneak up on it.

Kennedy squared off her stance again, and shot the rest of her clip off into the target, hitting the same sweet spot again and again until the entire red dot in the center was basically obliterated. The hunter smiled a slow, self-satisfied smile before stepping back, taking out the clip, setting her gun down on the table, and removing her safety gear. She'd go back to shooting in a minute, but first... she reached for her bottle of water and took a long drink. Yeah, she definitely had that hunter's drive, and never wanted to give it up. Even though her priorities had changed a bit in what she was hunting, there would always be targets that needed to be taken out. Maybe once hunters were no longer needed, she'd become a gun for hire or a spy. She could live the dream, and maybe, with any luck, one day she'd get to live forever.

NOTE: Anybody want to play with Kennedy?

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[CASON FLYNN ELLERY]

[/style][style=text-align: justify;width:400px; height:60px; background-color: #698B69; font-family:dorsa; font-size: 19px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing:1px; line-height:110%; color:#000; text-align: center;]
YOUR PROMISES THEY LOOK LIKE LIES

[style=width:350px; height:120; overflow:auto; padding: 5px; text-align:justify; font-family: tahoma; font-size:10px; line-height: 97%; text-transform: lowercase; border-right: 1px dotted #dded82; overflow:auto; color: #000;]This was a little slice of heaven for Cason Ellery. Just him, his gun and a target waiting to be riddled with bullets. Call it a stress relief but there was nothing he enjoyed more than spending an hour or so here at the target range firing round after round of ammo. No outside distractions, no monsters to keep an eye out for while you hoped you tagged them before they tagged you. Not that he didn't slightly enjoy the thrill that came with the knowledge that you were playing Russian roulette every time you went on a hunt. Was this the day you weren't going to make it back? Or would you live to fight another day? He had absolute confidence in his ability as a hunter but even the best of them weren't invincible. Hell even Jackson Duval would tell you that and that man was literally the best of the best. Been around for much longer than a lot of their fellow comrades could boast and didn't appear to be slowing down any even as he approached forty, which in hunter years was something of a miracle.

Cas was under no false illusions that he could keep doing what he did on an almost daily basis and live to a ripe old age. It just didn't happen. Some made it longer than others granted but in the end you were more likely to die with a gun in your hand than a cane. That fact was something he'd accepted very quickly and it rarely entered his head anymore really. Though lately it was something that came to mind a little more often since a certain brunette young woman had become a much more important part of his life. Since that night when he'd received the beating of a lifetime and found himself seeking out her before anyone else he'd known his priorities were shifting. He'd started hunting with the sole purpose of finding and killing whatever it was that had killed his fiance, whatever the cost. He wanted revenge. That had been enough to drive him for a good long while but after a time the knowledge that the chances of actually finding and killing the exact creature that had committed the deed were slim to none, well it tempered the intensity.

He still had every intention of killing each and every evil creature out there though if he had the chance. If he could save someone else from having to go through the same thing he had then it was worth it. Unlike some hunters he had no family (that acknowledged his existence anymore that is) or anyone outside of the hunting realm so to speak to stop him from laying it all on the line. Strictly speaking he had nothing to lose. Which made him a very dangerous man. Or rather, used to have nothing to lose. Now the thought of not coming back from any given hunt brought a sinking feeling to his stomach as all he could see were a pair of worry filled brown eyes when he didn't come home. Some in their profession would argue that trying to have any sort of a romantic relationship was just not compatible with hunting. Cason used to be the first to agree with that sentiment actually. Until Cierra had so unexpectedly just happened into his life and completely had him doing a one eighty in just about every aspect of it. Now he would argue that honestly having her to live for and not just himself made him fight even harder, made him a bigger threat because he was now a man willing to do anything to stay alive.

So there was really another reason he was here now aside from the pure enjoyment and that was to continue to hone his skills. Not that he was losing his edge by any stretch of the imagination. Heck, he and Kinsley Duval had just recently done some serious butt kicking to a pack of werewolves that would have (and likely did if she told him) made her daddy proud. Still, there was never any harm in sharpening the edge of a knife even if it was already razor sharp. Safety glasses dangling from the front of his shirt collar he took a moment before entering the actual area where the targets were lined up and waiting to pull out his gun. He had plenty of different weapons and enjoyed using all of them at some point or another but this here was his favorite. A Colt 1911 A1 .45 caliber it had been given to him way back when he'd first been training, by none other than Jackson Duval himself. Needless to say it was a cherished piece of equipment.

Smaller than some guns in terms of the magazine capacity it was nonetheless a tried and true workhorse of a gun and being a semi-automatic still held seven rounds plus another in the chamber. Which for him was more than enough in most cases. And like any good hunter he had plenty of back up weapons on his person to more than make up if things got real intense real quick like. About ready to head on in and start maiming paper targets he glanced through the viewing window as the muffled sound of shots being fired off in quick succession echoed beyond him. The figure was a familiar one even from behind and an eyebrow rose slightly in consideration before he headed through the door and towards the long table along the wall where the other person now stood. Kennedy Gardner. Cason couldn't say he knew her very well but they'd met a couple of times though not enough for him to really get a good read on her.

The piece of paper representing whatever enemy you were pretending to take out was automatically brought closer for better viewing purposes and though he wasn't super close to it he could easily see the holes riddling it. "Nicely done," He commented with a bit of a mutual respect sort of smile tugging one side of his mouth. It took skill and lots of practice to hit the center that many times in one quick succession. Glancing up at the woman he added almost as an afterthought, "It's Kennedy right?" He knew that of course but he was never one to act too familiar with people he wasn't one hundred percent sure of which weren't very many. It wasn't personal really, just another survival technique.

[/style]

TAG: seajay ! WORD COUNT: enough ! NOTES: so sorry this took so long ! CREDIT: NUTTERIE @ CAUTION 2.0

[KENNEDY NYOTA GARDNER]

The other best part about going to the gun range was her internal commentary on other peoples' technique. Most people who went to the range were newbies, gun enthusiast, the occasional cop – the skill level variance was actually pretty amazing. Kennedy knew that a few of her own kind, hunters, went to the gun range too, just to make sure their skills were sharp and their eye was spot-on. There was nothing like being in a situation that was potentially dangerous and could escalate quickly with your weapon drawn and a feeling in your gut that questioned your ability to take the shot. Kennedy had a penchant for being overly confident, and while some of her 'colleagues' would probably frown on the fact that she'd take shots she wasn't completely sure of, just to see what would happen, there was no changing her mind or her habits once they were set. A hunter's prowess could be measured in many ways, but the way she thought was always most important was whether or not they were alive, and had lived to see a reasonable number of years. As she was in her mid-twenties and had been hunting since she was in her mid teens, Kennedy felt like she was doing pretty well.

After her first hour at the range, Kennedy had already blown off a rather large amount of ammunition, but just felt the need to keep shooting. The young man to her left was clearly a newbie, handling a .38 caliber pistol like it would flip around suddenly and bite him in the face. His hands were weak on the grip, his finger hesitant on the trigger, and Kennedy wanted to laugh. Why go to a gun range if you're practically going to piss your pants just by holding the thing?

[/color] Kennedy thought, knowing that it was a harsh observation, but figured that if he didn't end up soiling himself, it would be out of pure luck. Maybe he was the type to get such an adrenaline rush after that first shot came out of the weapon that he'd just keep shooting, over and over, until he clicked mercilessly at an empty clip. No more glory to be had, and he'd be back to his useless, miserable life of some lame office job. That was another common type to be found at the range.

Newbie only made it through three clips of ammo, doing just as she predicted, and then left the spot next to her open. Kennedy looked down the range a little and saw a tall, burly man with a beautiful. 44 Magnum. He had broad shoulders, a stiff facial expression, and flawless posture. He was either ex-military or a cop. Maybe a weekend warrior. Kennedy didn't pay him any mind, since she had nothing to critique, and put a fresh clip in her own weapon. Then she evened her stance, squared her shoulders, raised her arms, aimed her gun, and fired. Boom, boom, boom, boom... each bullet hit the target with nearly surgical precision. After she finished that clip and lowered her weapon, she noticed that the spot next to her was taken. A young man, handsome enough, looking like he knew his way around guns was in the spot that the newbie had vacated. Kennedy sized him up and thought there was a chance he might actually be impressive, but didn't want to give him any credit until she saw his work. Just wasn't her style.

The Colt in his hands was a beautiful weapon, and the way it was clean and shined up, she could tell that he took pride in what he was working with. The vibe from this one read hunter, like herself. She didn't know many of Manuka's hunters personally, but figured that her brother had covertly raised enough chatter about her that there was always that chance that they'd know of her. Also, Manuka had a lot of white people, so she had a tendency to stand out a little in that regard, too. When the target moved forward so she could examine her shots, which she knew were near perfect, the man next to her spoke up. He even knew her by name. Kennedy's hearing protection was off for the time being, so she heard his comment and looked his direction, eyebrow raised sky high.

”Who wants to know?” Kennedy asked, then made a blatant attempt of sizing him up, head to toe, with her eyes. It wasn't flirtatious because she had no interest in checking him out, but it was a subtle intimidating tactic, not that she wanted to be off-putting. After all, he was nice enough to be complimentary. ”Can't say we've met. But yeah, I'm Kennedy. What's your name?" Then she looked down at the Colt in his station. ”Beautiful weapon. Someone carries that around, you know they want to do some damage.”

Kennedy really did have to try sometimes not to be overly aggressive out of the gate. She'd always been strong, independent, and really didn't like being treated like some 'little lady' or bossed around. That's why she always made sure that she was a formidable opponent for anyone who crossed her path. The Montgomerys, who were hunter legends in their own right, raised her and her brother to be powerful. To be hungry for perfection in everything they did, and Ms. Montgomery was such a powerhouse female that Kennedy looked up to her even when she was very young. Most young girls had more maternal women in their life, but Ms. Montgomery never babied them. When Kennedy tripped and scraped her knee, there was no rush of kisses and antiseptic unless it was dangerous. She'd heal. That's what they always said. 'You're still alive.'

She took that mentality with her, that no-holds-barred, take no prisoners, don't surrender attitude into everything she did. And while she was interested in making connections, especially for her greater cause that was such a secret, she wasn't looking to do it by subjecting herself to some lesser stereotype of a gracious woman, tickled to death by a man's compliments. ”Let's see what you got,” the other hunter said, putting on her hearing protection and waiting for the man to impress her, as she didn't doubt he would. Quiet confidence was something she had yet to master, but she admired it all the same.[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

[CASON FLYNN ELLERY]

[/style][style=text-align: justify;width:400px; height:60px; background-color: #698B69; font-family:dorsa; font-size: 19px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing:1px; line-height:110%; color:#000; text-align: center;]
YOUR PROMISES THEY LOOK LIKE LIES

[style=width:350px; height:120; overflow:auto; padding: 5px; text-align:justify; font-family: tahoma; font-size:10px; line-height: 97%; text-transform: lowercase; border-right: 1px dotted #dded82; overflow:auto; color: #000;]Much like Kennedy, Cas did the same thing with the other people he happened to be sharing the target range with at any given time. It wasn't really even something he thought much about anymore and was simply an automatic sort of reaction. Instinct you could say, something you did in an effort to increase your chances of survival. The quicker you could size up your opponents the better chance you had at besting them in the end. Not that he was expecting to be besting anyone here unless it was by way of how many of his bullets hit their mark versus theirs. Cason knew that was the main goal of some who came here often. See just how many they could show up, humiliate even if given the opportunity. An inward sort of smile always came to his mind when he thought back to one of his first trips here a couple of years ago. Two of those very types had been going back and forth blowing holes in one paper target after another, guffawing and trying to out brag the other. He'd come in quietly, not really there to make friends or small talk. He'd just come back from a rather intense hunt involving a few close calls with innocent lives on the line and suffice it to say he a good bit of pent up adrenaline and still unresolved rage to get out. Putting a few (or a lot) of bullets through an imaginary enemies head seemed as good an outlet as any.

Maybe it was his relative silence as he'd loaded his gun or the rather unimpressed glances he'd shot absently towards the two as they compared targets after their last round of ammo but whatever the reason they'd taken a dislike to him. Which meant he'd become the target for their inflated egos to aim at just then. The demand of 'What're you looking at?' was met with a non-threatening sort of shrug on Cason's part as if he was intimidated by the man's attitude. Hah. They'd both taken the bait though and figured this stranger would be fun to play with for a bit. And the hunter quite happily obliged them, fumbling around with his gun, even dropping a bullet or two for good measure and giving off a very nervous, inexperienced aura to anyone who looked at him. Smirking and mocking behind his back with the other nearby occupants both of the men had gone back to getting their own guns reloaded and ready to riddle another set of paper targets full of holes.

Readying his own target at the same time the explosion of gunfire had commenced and a few short minutes later they were looking at the results. The two belonging to the ego maniacs had very visible marks showing off their skills and both were patting each other on the back over it all while smirking at the newcomers seemingly unharmed one. Grabbing it, Cas had given it a quick look, a satisfied smile crossing his face which prompted one of the two men to push his way past to see it himself, the smirk fading quickly into a look of shock. There in the middle of the targets forehead was a small circle of holes, one, two, three, four, five. Perfect kill shots. He'd left them staring at it without a word and the memory still made him want to laugh. He hadn't seen the two since then. He knew better than to underestimate anyone though seeing as it could easily put you in the same position as those two lugs.

The place wasn't overly crowded tonight though and out of the people there only one had really caught his attention based on her skill alone. Cas wasn't exactly the type to give out compliments unless he sincerely meant them and even then he often kept the thought to himself. However, the fact that he was slightly familiar with who this girl was combined with the fact that her shots had resulted in near perfect marks on that target had prompted him to speak out this time. She was on the defensive immediately, not that expected any less, and was eying him up as if she could somehow see right through him. Also not unexpected as he would have done the exact same thing had he been in her shoes. It was always a bit unsettling when someone clearly knew you but you were less sure of who they were. Especially in their profession.

Her tone was cautious but not rude as she commented that she wasn't aware they had ever met but she was indeed Kennedy. His name was requested following that admittance along with a compliment of her own concerning his weapon of choice. "Thanks. She's definitely done her fair share of damage over the years," Rolling up the sleeve of his over shirt he added in answer to her previous question, "It's Cason. Cason Ellery," Whether or not the name would mean anything to her he wasn't sure and didn't really care either way. He wasn't the sort of man who rested on his laurels or even assumed he had any to rest on in the first place. Was he a well known figure in the hunting community? Yeah. Was he the better than anyone else? Not necessarily. He had been trained by Jackson Duval which meant a lot to some people and absolutely nothing to others. He knew he was good at what he did though and so long as he kept coming back home from hunts alive then he must be doing something right. Or else he was just plain lucky. He didn't much believe in luck though.

With names exchanged and suspicions hopefully eased she appeared interested in seeing just what he had in response to her own shooting skills. Complying easily with her request he followed suit and slid on his hearing protection as well before picking up the Colt and settling it in that oh so familiar position in his hands. A moment later the target was set and he raised the gun and fired off four shots in quick succession, not planning on emptying the clip just yet. In fact he rarely hauled off and emptied his entire clip in one go unless he was letting out some major frustration, which lately hadn't been much of an issue. Lowering the weapon he slid the hearing protection off once more as the target was brought in closer for them to inspect. Two in the chest and two through the center of the forehead. All kill shots and fired off in the space of less than ten seconds.

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TAG: seajay ! WORD COUNT: enough ! NOTES: so sorry this took so long ! CREDIT: NUTTERIE @ CAUTION 2.0

[KENNEDY NYOTA GARDNER]

Even though she liked to play around and cause trouble, Kennedy had always known that she was in Manuka for a reason. It wasn't a playground, wasn't her home, wasn't a place where she could really become comfortable because nobody was her 'friend' here. Sure, there was always that chance that she might actually find some allies, which she had always considered to be more useful than 'friends' anyway. And she was just fine with that – for the longest time, she had pretty much survived with just her and her brother, AJ, anyway. The Montgomerys had been good to both of them, taught them to be strong, to rely on nothing but their training, their instincts, and each other. Even though she told everyone that asked about AJ – if they had a good reason, of course – that her brother had been turned down and put down by her own two hands on a hunt, but she knew that wasn't exactly true. Her brother had been bitten by a vampire, yes. He had turned, yes, but when she had gone to kill him? She couldn't follow through. Shockingly enough, he had still been... AJ. Not some monster like she had expected, and nothing would have been able to prepare her for the sight of those dark brown eyes that so matched her own looking at her with a kind smile and his patented, 'hey, troublemaker' in that gravelly voice. Kennedy had done things for her brother that would shame any person with their background – she had brought him humans, as food, to keep him strong. Protected his identity by helping him fake his death in a convincing manner, smuggled him to safety and helped him get integrated with a group of 'dark side' supernaturals that would, one day, end up welcoming her into their fold as well. But first, she had a job to do.

While AJ wasn't in Manuka – at least, as far as she knew – he was still close by, watching from the shadows, preparing the other supernaturals for her 'visit' to their fair city, and making sure they all knew exactly what side she was on, but not to speak of it to anyone who might be able to put her in danger. That way, the other hunters, just like the man who was standing next to her at the gun range, wouldn't know that she was any sort of threat to them until it was way too late. That was the job, after all; befriend the hunters, learn their secrets, and take them down from the inside. They wouldn't kill all of them, but a good chunk, with any luck, and then Manuka – the supernatural 'hot spot' of the East Coast – would be able to become what it should have always been: a supernatural haven. A place for supernaturals to gather and live openly, a 'mecca' of sorts that would draw more and more, and get other cities to follow in its footsteps. Kennedy didn't know if this way was better when it came to the whole 'war' thing, but she knew that when it was time for 'war' to happen, she'd be turned by her brother and join with the side where she truly felt she belonged. Humans were weak – even hunters, to a certain degree, and becoming something more, something better was a gift that they just didn't seem to understand.

Kennedy had always been skilled at subterfuge, and even though her personality could err on the side of being 'harsh' and difficult, she still had a way of making people trust her, especially if they shared a common bond. She knew enough about hunters to know that so many of them either knew each other, knew of each other, or stuck together in smaller groups because it was just smarter that way: safety in numbers and all of that. That was why she hoped that, with a little bit of luck, this guy might have been her way into the fold, so to speak. Especially when he seemed to know who she was, just by the way she shot off her weapon and likely shot off her mouth. Can't say he didn't make this easy... Her thought was a little wicked, but she was good at playing her 'hunter' side because up until a few years ago, it had been the only piece of her identity. It had been the center of her universe, and at her best, she was probably just as dedicated as the man standing next to her was. Now, she was just as dedicated, just as fierce and strong, but had a very different mindset than any of the other hunters. She complimented his gun, hoping that it would make up for the rudeness that she had initially possessed. Really, nobody was special or immune to her rudeness; that was just a part of who Kennedy was. And then she got his name, and it totally rang a bell. She'd done her research before coming to Manuka, after all.

Oh, he was an excellent way to the rest of them. ”Wait. Ellery – I know that name. You're one of Jackson Duval's 'kids,' aren't you?” She'd never use the term 'hunter' in public, and because Jackson had other claims to fame, so to speak, than being one of the baddest living hunters – he was up there with her 'parents' in age and skill – so it wouldn't register as strange to anyone that might be listening. ”Impressive. I was trained by the Montgomerys – pretty sure they're old friends.” Even though she was still pretending to be a little cautious, she didn't want to seem completely closed-off to the idea of befriending him, or getting to know his skills, and most hunters automatically tried to share a bond because what they did was so dangerous. It was a tight-knit group, and in order to infiltrate, she knew she'd have to earn his respect, and being rude just wouldn't cut it. So she asked to see his skills, put on her hearing protection, and watched. Round after round fired off the Colt, and he didn't empty the clip. Control. Power. Speed. All good things. She took off her hearing protection after he took off his, and grinned. ”That's... yeah, not gonna lie, that's impressive. But hey, little trick of the trade?” This would be one of those 'make or break' moments – she wasn't going to be rude (which was rare for her), but if he'd accept some advice, just in a friendly way, then maybe they could talk. It would show a mutual respect. "If you shoot with both eyes open and rooted to the same spot, maybe just... here, I'll show you.”

She motioned for him to put back on his hearing protection and did the same, reloading her weapon and adopting a stance that was like second nature to her. Kennedy positioned her hands on the gun, took a solid breath, and kept both eyes open, which was something that most people didn't do unless they were really, really skilled. Crack-shots and sharpshooters, mostly. Most people closed an eye, focused in entirely the wrong places, all sorts of things, so they could get a better view, but she didn't need it. Then, she aimed at the new target, and fired off six rounds – one in each 'eye,' one in the center of the forehead, one in the heart, and two perfect shots in the throat area, right where the jugular would be, landing the last two shots directly on top of each other, not a millimeter of space in between. Then, she set her weapon down on the table safely, and turned to him after taking off her hearing protection. ”My 'mom' taught me that, actually – both eyes open, less tension in the forearms, much more control. Take it or leave it, but I'm just trying to be helpful.” Kennedy shrugged a little, and smiled slightly, just a little half-smile, but knew that he'd either accept the help or tell her to 'fuck off.' Make or break moment, but nobody got anywhere without taking chances.

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